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Taking Stock

The day after the super storm known as Sandy, we woke to find our electricity still on, our trees still standing, our flood levels not catastrophic.

All we had, in addition to the relief of feeling spared the worst of this extraordinary storm system’s brute force, was the ache of sympathy for those who weren’t so lucky.

The fickleness of weather is a gambler’s dream. People who build on sandy shores play a game whose odds are not in their favor, but as long as the sun shines and the breezes are soft and refreshing, beach dwellers enjoy the envy of many inlanders.

Not feeling much envy this week.

The after-effects of this nightmarish weather event will still be felt next summer, when the suntan lotion and beach umbrellas go back on the repaired beaches. The people who have suffered most from this storm will never forget it.

But for the rest of us, those of us lucky enough not to have had trees fall on our houses or cars or worse, lucky enough not have had the water rising inside our homes, the memory of even a storm such as Sandy will inevitably fade.

It’s human nature. It’s tough to dwell on frightening scenarios and carry on with the daily routines of life. Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, we all gotta work and play until we die. Dwelling on misery doesn’t make it any less likely to happen again. So we do our best to manage the fear. We keep it handy, right there on the shelf with the batteries and candles and extra rolls of toilet paper.